Portrait
by The Mad Hatter 06
Summary: Reno encounters a chain of events which question the difference between reality and fantasy.


**disclaimer** : I do not own Final Fantasy vii's concept or its characters. They belong to Square.  
  
**warning **: Slight dosages of Reno/Yuffie. The story does not revolve around them, I just needed a pairing and since I like them best, that's who I used.

**Portrait  
**  
by : Danni  
  
*

"Do you even know who I am, asshole?"

  
  
The rain was cool, refreshing, and enticingly inviting. The small liquid drops caused the foul rundown city of Midgar to appear lively and rather innocent; its surface undergoing rejuvenation by the common residue of the potent sky. Black curtains of ebony shrouded the radiant heavens in mystery as the full wan of the moon provided a simple contrast to an otherwise bland existence.

  
  
"No, but I do know I have your fucking gun and spit in my face, lady," Reno Laurito growled angrily; hands reaching up to wipe saliva spewed from verbal excitement away from his forehead and nose. His eyes fell upon the aggressor venomously while the lean and slouching body which kept him standing remained calm and natural, "and that's more than enough attention I want directed at me in one day."

  
  
"You think this is a game," she shouted before shoving the redhead against the brick wall, cocking the double barrel gun, and aiming it directly between his eyes, "This is not a game. But since you seem to be so forgetful all of a sudden, let me refresh your memory of why we're both here. Exactly one year ago today, in this very alley, my brother was coming home to me and my mother. He had food with him for the first time so we were both very excited. My brother never came home that night and do you know why that is?"

  
  
Reno remained silent, contemplative, and almost reminiscent. His lips twisted into a frown as his blazing crimson eyebrows furrowed together in reluctant realization. Sighing, he robotically replied, "Draven. He was one of my marks last year. I shot him in the back of the head when he tried to run away from me."

  
  
She was right. Today marked exactly one year since Alexander Draven's hit. It was a direct order from Tseng that came equipped with a small, but decent, bonus. This man had been stealing, sometimes with extra help, scientifically designated narcotics from Shinra and selling them on the street for a rather hefty price. The theft and financial damages left behind to be cleaned up caused Hojo, Rufus, and other corrupt money hugging Bureaucrats to run psychotically up a wall.

  
  
"Give the man a prize because I do believe he's got it!"

  
  
He winced internally at the odd vengeful tone in her soft voice. The gun wielder was tall, slightly muscular, and possessed a certain physical quality that made her appear more attractive than she looked. She held an innocent face but her eyes contained so much ferocity, it even caused slum dwelling folks to wonder whether she actually belonged among living, breathing people or isolated in the depths of a jungle.

  
The angelic drops of purifying rain hardened and fell to the earth with vicious and hardly soothing intentions. A small, angry clap of thunder could be heard in the distance as angels everywhere obviously grew bored with their harps and preferred the unadulterated adrenaline of a drum set. The night, in all its rabid glory, reeked of havoc and thirsted for the nectar of murder.

  
  
"I hate you. I hate the Turks. I hate Shinra," she breathed, pushing her prey back into the captivity of the wall, and forcing the gun sadistically into Reno's resistant mouth, "You'll pay for my brother's blood with your own, but hey, look on the bright side. You'll be a martyr and hero for your conniving company. After all, murderers always idolize other murderers."

  
  
He felt the gun in his mouth and shivered from the way it teased his palate with a sordid taste of metal. This was, in all honesty, no surprise. It was only a matter of time before he was forced to pay the impatient piper with his life and hand over an overdue soul to the devil. Death was crawling in malice up the young Turk's spine but all he could do to prepare himself was close poisoned green eyes and await execution.

  
  
"Reno?"

  
  
Reno opened his bloodshot eyes in surprise and focused warily on the worried expression of his fellow Turk. Her blonde hair beneath the brilliant glow of fluorescent lights gave satin strands the appearance of a shimmering halo. Honey eyes, a powerhouse full of passionate fire, were currently free of any alluring traits and instead focused only on the lounging bum before her.

  
  
"What do you want, Elena?"

  
  
She frowned and folded her arms across her chest expectantly, "I.You were talking to yourself. Plus, add looking uncomfortable to the long list of extensive quirks. I just decided to come over here and wake you up before you disturbed the peace with your thrashing and mumblings."

  
  
"Just a dream," he murmured more to his own reassurance than Elena's while rubbing at his eyes vigorously and yawning.

  
  
"Maybe you should go home. Get some rest. God only knows you look like you need it."

  
  
"Don't we have work to do or a mission to go on or something? Since when the hell did Shinra become slacker's paradise?"

  
  
"Reeve's in a meeting, so right now we're on stand by," Elena responded, placing a stray lock of hair behind her ear with ease whereas her eyes remained stationed on the avid workaholic, "Plus, you've been working yourself too much lately. You have to relax."

  
  
Reno ran his hands over his face in desperation while perspiration was frantically accumulating at his hairline and threatening to make his face the hot spot for a sweat inspired debutante ball. He needed a drink and a cigarette, bad. Not that he would admit it, but maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to go back to the apartment for a little relaxation therapy.

  
  
"Fine, I'm out," he stated without further argument. As he got up from his seat and gathered the customary navy blue jacket from the back of his dull and uncomfortable chair, he readjusted his sunglasses on the top of his head before saying, "Call me if Reeve decides to regroup."

  
  
She watched on as her partner suavely used his foot to tuck in the haphazard chair and beginning his unusual solemn exit from the cafeteria. Her upper teeth gnawed on plush, pink shaded mass, known to humanity as the lower lip, fingers reaching up and twirling at rebellious locks as her foot tapped incessantly on the linoleum floor.

  
  
"Reno?"

  
  
Elena stared ahead as the disheveled redhead stopped, cocked his head to the side, and nodded an 'I'm listening' decree. She was nervous. The strong willed blonde had known Reno for about three years, yet she knew nothing about his personal life or the people and objects, unless it was work related, encircling it. Reno Laurito's past and present information remained tightly sealed within an unbreakable, never to be open safe located just beyond the confines of his mentality, and everyone in Shinra knew it. Therefore, whenever conversation rarely did occur, they made sure to avoid the topic.

  
  
"Are you OK? This whole Yuffie thing must really have you going crazy and I just wanted to say if you ever want to talk, I'm here for you."

  
  
"Elena," Reno began, his expression remaining ever so placid in a way that both scared and relieved the petite Turk at the same time, "you talk too much."

  
  
She couldn't help but smile as he winked, turned back around, and walked away.  
  
*  
  
A pair of keys clinked together in boisterous support of freedom as they were pulled out of wrinkled pants pockets and placed directly in brilliant illumination's way of the humming hallway light. Picking the correct of the two lock manipulating devices, Reno inserted it into the keyhole, turned the instrument, and was allowed immediate access into the leased, and fairly expensive, home.

  
  
Sighing, he opened the door, entered without looking for any mail lying around, and slammed it shut behind him. The apartment was surprisingly, considering his overall preferred physical appearance, tidy and nicely furnished. In the living room resided a large couch worthy of sleeping on, wide screen television, a small coffee table with a newspaper and remote control resting soundly on its surface, and a sliding door, all the way at the left hand corner of the room, for balcony access.

  
  
The kitchen was also modestly designed with tiled floors, a single refrigerator/freezer combination, oven, microwave, counter with its own barstool seats, and coffee maker for those early morning hangovers and caffeine cravings.

  
  
He removed his jacket from over sagging shoulders and placed it on an empty barstool along with the keys he was currently holding. Rubbing at tired eyes, Reno sauntered over and collapsed onto a seat by the counter before reaching for the vodka at the end of the table and taking a swig straight from the open bottle.

  
  
The alcohol burned his throat with a nostalgic tingling sensation but tasted too good to completely stop indulging himself in the mind altering substance. If Rude had been here, they could have done shots, even played a drinking game or two as a fun filled distraction from his everyday melodramatic angst.

  
  
"Babe, is that you?"

  
  
That voice; so familiar through the cloud of grogginess and soft feminine exclamation. This voice had been the one which whispered into his ear so many times with comments ranging from comfort to words of enticing arousal. This voice possessed the soft moans he couldn't live without hearing as he made love to its possessor again and again. This was the voice that annoyed and drove him crazy at least once a day, and yet, it was still the voice he chose to come home and listen to everyday.

  
  
Allowing his slim fingers to release the glass bottle from quivering lips, its contents smashed itself into hundreds of dangerous pieces on the floor while vodka flowed amongst its previous capturer in a mocking manner. Aquamarine eyes widened as he took in the sight before him, never once agreeing to blink for fear of the apparition suddenly evaporating.

  
  
"Great, Reno, choose to be a klutz when glass is involved considering I'm the one who's going to have to clean it up."

  
  
Yuffie Kisaragi stood, with a sly smile tugging at the corners of her soft lips, against the wall of the corridor which lead straight into Reno's bedroom. Her eyebrow quirked up curiously, hands unconsciously fixing fly aways which threatened to make her look even more unattractive than she already appeared in her bedraggled phase, and bare legs quivering from the sudden change in climate.

  
  
"Hello? Reno, are you OK? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

  
  
"What are you doing here?" Reno asked after shaking his head in denial. Ignoring any questions or smart assed replies stated earlier by the fast talking, bash-centric conversational preferring ninja, he immediately jumped back into his Turk interrogation saddle without second thoughts or regrets.

  
  
"What do you mean, 'what am I doing here?' I live here," Yuffie shouted defensively before pushing against the wall to stand back on both sturdy feet, "Or are you trying to imply something?"

  
  
"You shouldn't be here. There's no way in hell you can be here."

  
  
"What is that supposed to mean? Reno, what the fuck are you on? You're all over me one day, you want me out the next day, make up your mind. And when you do happen to do that, don't come crawling back to me just because you need to get your itch scratched!"

  
  
"Shit, Yuffie, it's not like that," Reno declared, pouncing off of the seat and running an inadequate hand through unruly hair. Walking slowly towards the fuming brunette while trying to make sense of what was going on right before his very eyes, he shook a frazzled head again in high hopes of clearing whatever alcohol was in his system out of his vision. But somehow, during this very moment, he believed it was the most sober he had ever and would ever be.

  
  
"Then what is it like exactly?"

  
  
He froze, unable to say the words which threatened to escape parted lips. There she was, like an epiphany in boxer shorts and a tanktop, staring at him in a way he thought she never would again. Maybe this whole burden was all just a dream. A terrible nightmare clad in reality's finest silks and illusionary anti-defective lighting. No matter how technical or even fashionable it got, it was all it was in the end, an illusion that wanted nothing more than to believe its own lie.

  
  
He grinned, standing in the middle of the room with a mischievous glint in his eyes and a sarcastic hint to his tone, "Nothing. I guess I was just so happy to see you the words just came pouring out of my mouth. Verbal diarrhea's a nasty little bastard."

  
  
Yuffie narrowed her eyes at her boyfriend's odd behavioral patterns and crossed her arms in suspicion. Tilting her head to the side, she waved her finger, and called upon all the evil a single expression could possess into a smile, "Don't think you're getting any tonight, Turkey, not after what you just pulled."

  
  
Smiling, he shook his head and watched as the younger female sashayed up to him, sprung into his arms while placing a soft kiss on his awaiting lips. She wrapped her long legs around his torso and seductively murmured, "Well, maybe I can let this one slide for tonight and put you in the dog house tomorrow," before nibbling on his ear lobe in persuasion.

  
  
Reno kept his arms securely around the ex-AVALANCHE member, feeling shockwaves of pleasure running down the side of his face before the tense arousing sensation spread like wildfire through his entire body. Shifting his eyes, he looked down at the coffee table and noticed the catchy newspaper headline. After focusing intently on large print, the familiar bitter taste of lead resided in his mouth once again and a sharp, tearing pain exploded at the back of his head.

  
  
"Shit!"

  
  
He automatically let Yuffie drop down to her feet and instinctively touched the back of his head. Pulling his hand back for a clear view of damage, a thick crimson liquid slid down his palm and casually began dripping down to his arm. The sight caused Yuffie to scream and Reno to stare almost entranced in wide eyed wonder at his own blood.

  
  
_You've been working yourself too much lately. You should relax._

_  
_  
_Reno__? Are you OK? This whole Yuffie thing must really have you going crazy and I just wanted to say if you ever want to talk, I'm here for you._

_  
  
On the cover of Midgar Times decorating the oak coffee table, the headline in dark, bold, large font read : **WUTAIIAN PRINCESS, YUFFIE KISARAGI, ASSINATED!**_

_  
  
...Just a dream._

*Zoom directly into one of Reno's eyes and slowly back away until his face is completely shown again*

  
  
The rain continued to pour down furiously on concrete as the thunder became a decibel louder than before. The air had become more frigid as several gusts of wind blew frantically at discarded newspaper pages on the puddle infested ground. Among the tempestuous weather and abused written news provider, Reno Laurito stood completely still against the towering graffiti wall. His eyes were wide, blood trickling down the corner of his parted mouth, and body suddenly loosing whatever momentum it had left to offer.

  
  
He fell onto the floor, limp, a gunshot wound piercing the back of his head.

  
  
The twin barrel gun fell to the ground besides the victim and fast paced footsteps were heard bouncing off the walls like an over zealous game of ping pong. The moon was encased within mournful gray clouds as the light of its everlasting illumination dulled down until there was nothing left to offer the remainder of the world.

  
  
_It's funny...you think you have reality all figured out until it goes and revels with fantasy._

**Fin  
**26 august 2003  
  
*

**author's**** notes** : Strange? I know. Short and rushed? I agree. (I'm planning a re-write depending on reviews) If you want an explanation of where this idea came from, what it all meant, or why I chose to write it, E-mail me. I'll explain it. It's 3 'o clock in the morning and I'm too tired to post the reasoning under my author's notes. Good night and remember to review.


End file.
